


I Don't Have Much in My Life (But Take it, it's Yours)

by pennysparkle



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Angst, Genderfluid Character, Other, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparkle/pseuds/pennysparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinner would be at seven—that was what they’d agreed on the day before, on the phone past midnight. Souji’s voice had been lowered so as not to wake Dojima, or worse, cause him to question exactly why he was on the phone so late at night. But he was sure he had been heard loud and clear. Adachi had even parroted it back at him—seven o’clock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Have Much in My Life (But Take it, it's Yours)

**Author's Note:**

> [Jack](http://milesupshur.tumblr.com) and I are doing a week of P4 prompts together! Today's was "dinner." Thank you so much to [Noelle](http://moonsigil.tumblr.com) for the beta!

Dinner would be at seven—that was what they'd agreed on the day before, on the phone past midnight. Souji's voice had been lowered so as not to wake Dojima, or worse, cause him to question exactly  _why_ he was on the phone so late at night. But he was sure he had been heard loud and clear. Adachi had even parroted it back at him— _seven o'clock_.

Seven o'clock meant seven sharp to Souji, and besides, there was something exciting about being in Adachi's apartment and cooking for him, even if it wasn't the first time they'd done this. On each and every occasion, it felt like something special, and he'd hummed along to one of the songs that Yosuke had kept on heavy repeat that week, diligently cutting up meat and vegetables for curry and checking the clock every few minutes to ensure that he was on time.

But 6:45 came and went, along with Souji's assumption that Adachi would be home by then. And by the time the clock struck seven, he was apparently the only one who'd held up his end of the deal. All he could do was fold sheets of foil over the plates he'd already served up to keep them warm, and wait. And wait some more. Maybe he'd hope too, for good measure.

Only then it wasn't seven anymore. The minutes had passed slowly, each tiny noise perking Souji from his place at the low table in the bedroom, an anticipatory smile forming on his face as he started to rise. Then he'd sink down to the hardwood again as a door slammed closed a floor or two above, or laughter passed by in the hallway, inhabiting the apartment only in its ghostly imprint upon Souji's ears.

The door remained resolutely shut, blank aside from the swimming circles that danced across it as Souji's vision went unfocused, and the clock flashed from seven to eight. There was no sign of Adachi. Was it alright to worry? Would he get angry with Souji for it, call him overbearing, brush him off? It wouldn't surprise Souji, really. But it would hurt, still.

His phone finally vibrated on the table after another half-hour, startling him into dropping the glass of water he'd barely realized he'd been holding onto for about that long, but its sudden shattering descent hardly registered with him. He was already grabbing frantically at the phone, flipping it open, hoping that it was Adachi,  _needing_ it to be him.

"Hello?"

"Big bro? Are you coming home soon? Dad brought sushi!"

Nanako... It felt wrong to be disappointed; she was his family. And yet he felt himself deflate a little bit upon hearing her voice.

"I'm not sure if I'll make it back in time. We've got a lot to study," he lied. That was always the excuse: pretend he was studying with the Investigation Team instead of fooling around with his uncle's coworker. It was the easiest way to avoid difficult questions.

"Oh..." She sounded just as disappointed as he felt, and that only made him feel worse.

Still, it didn't make him feel anywhere  _near_ as bad as the sudden tipsy laugh he heard in the background, unmistakably Adachi. The bubble of hope that had sat in his chest these past few hours burst suddenly, sharply enough that he felt the sting of it, needle-like against his heart as his lips pressed together, and then he forced it down again. It reluctantly allowed itself to recede for the moment, like wolves away from the light of a campfire, but still close enough to be a threat.

"I'll see what I can do, Nanako," he said through the choking feeling of what could have been an unfounded betrayal, and he hung up without even saying goodbye. He shouldn't have been a stranger to it by now; sometimes it felt like Adachi didn't even try, but he knew it wasn't right to blame him for that. Adachi was busy, had an important job, couldn't spend every second of the day trying to please Souji.

But he had thought they'd had a promise. He'd thought it meant something, that it was special, that their plans mattered, that Adachi  _wanted_ this.

It was probably silly to dwell on such pessimistic thoughts. Souji set them aside for the moment and forced himself to stand, grabbing a handful of paper towels from the kitchen before heading back to the bedroom. There he knelt to sort the broken glass into tiny, glittering piles, set aside where he could wipe up the water he'd spilled. It was all down the front of his clothes too, Rorschach patterns sticking the skirt and blouse he'd privately thought Adachi would find particularly cute to his skin.

It wasn't ruined, but it was still still symbolic of how easily the night had fallen apart. After all, wouldn't  _this_ be the icing on the cake? He was always going to such lengths to please Adachi—wearing cuter clothes, cooking better meals, spending less time with his friends. Wouldn't it only be right to have it all thrown back in his face, as if to laugh at him for trying? As if to  _mock_ him for questioning why Adachi fell short in return?

He didn't bother to try and dry his clothes off. They and the cold, damp spot soaking through to his stomach were ignored as he stored the night's dinner in containers, placed in the fridge with a level of care offered to the dead as they were laid to rest.

Maybe Adachi would eat the remainders for lunch sometime this week. The thought made Souji smile at least a little bit.

Then he packed up his bag and stepped out into the open-air hallway, locking the door behind himself. The almost sterile blankness of Adachi's apartment was left behind as a confused feeling settled inside of Souji—loss, perhaps? It wasn't that he loved the place so much; it was just the memories of Adachi, of the time they'd spent there together, that made it special to him.

And there were sad memories too, ones that made it harder to come back sometimes. Ones that made it seem intimidating, dark, as unwelcoming as it felt right now. His pace picked up like he was in a horror movie, trying to escape from something terrible following him. The thought made him laugh to himself, one small, single exhale that was practically silent in the night.

There was nothing frightening to this—not even the loneliness. After all these years, he was used to it. Prior to Inaba, he'd only ever walked alone to his destinations, long steps in so many different cities and towns, avoiding the cracks on sidewalks, counting each stride so that he could keep his mind carefully blank of any thought that might remind him too much of the fact that he  _was_ alone. If he ran, that'd be too cliche—'running from your problems' wasn't a phrase that needed to be made literal. And he was capable of making it through, anyway. He knew how strong he had to be, even then.

Now the glow of the streetlamps spread over the road as he walked, a bright blanket tucking away the occasional pothole that the local maintenance was turning a blind eye to. A bulb flickered overhead as he passed underneath it, then went out completely, eerie until it stuttered back on with an electric fizzle. It barely made him jump, even though he was a mile's walk from home and a long way from anyone he knew.

He'd have to hurry if he wanted to pretend that he was coming from Yosuke's house, which was much closer to home than Adachi's. But he dragged his feet instead, looking up at the stars in the sky, a breeze stirring up long strands of hair that had fallen loose from his braids so that they blocked out the pinpricks of brightness momentarily. Then they came back into view, seeming even bigger than they had before.

The same trick unfortunately held consistent as he arrived on the street leading down to the Dojima house. One small hill and he'd be in front of it, standing in the light diffusing through the rice paper of the front door, maybe hearing Adachi's too-loud, too-drunk laugh from within. The thought made him feel more than a little bit pained.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, but that didn't stop the reality of it. Because Souji did his best to stay optimistic, tried to pretend that maybe, even if Adachi never said it, even if he barely  _acted_ like it, he might have thought of Souji as sweetly and longingly as Souji thought of him—but the fact of the matter was that to Adachi, no one would ever be worth prioritizing over Dojima. Not even Souji.

And even if he tried his hardest to remain ignorant of it, Souji saw the way Adachi looked at Dojima. It was more difficult  _not_ to see the way he always looked first and most often to him, how he smiled so much more around him... And apparently, he'd forgotten about his plans with Souji at the mere chance of spending time with Dojima. It shouldn't really have been unexpected

He braced himself as he slid the front door open. The sounds of laughter and talking (mostly from Adachi) slithered out to meet him; even now he was more happy than he  _ever_ was around Souji. But despite the queasy feeling in his stomach, the slap in the face of inadequacy that he couldn't keep at bay, Souji adjusted his braids, straightened his skirt and blouse, and stepped inside.

"Big bro!" Nanako ran forward to greet him, her smile big and bright. For all that she had gone through, she could still smile at him like this. It gave him the strength to return it as he pulled his shoes off, neatly aligning them in the empty space beside Adachi's and padding into the kitchen.

"Hi. Did you have a good day, Nanako?"

"Yeah! Me and dad watered the garden... we tried to wait for you!" She seemed a little bashful as she admitted it.

He smiled, hoping it would reassure her. So much of his own childhood had involved him feeling hesitant; he'd never want the same for her. "It's okay. In a couple days we'll do it together again, right?"

She nodded once. "Yeah!"

He gave her a nod and a thumbs-up in return, then watched her take her careful, measured steps back into the living room. From his perch leaned against the counter, he could see Dojima sprawled out on the couch like he always tended to be, a can of beer propped on his knee and kept up by loose fingertips. At first, he couldn't even see Adachi, but then his dark hair shifted from its camouflage against the couch and he revealed himself to be sitting on the floor, his back leaned up against the sofa and his pink-cheeked face lolling dangerously close to Dojima's other leg. He probably didn't even think about such a move. It seemed so simple for him, just the desire to be beside Dojima, the want so plain on his face—impossible to miss.

And Souji knew how the desire and the want felt. He felt it for Adachi, even in moments like this one, when he realized how much better off he'd be without those insistent, painful feelings.

"Ohhh, hey, Souji-kun! Boy, you look cute today!" He was definitely drunk, then. Normally he would have been incredibly wary of saying anything too suggestive to Souji in front of  _anyone_ , probably for fear of Dojima finding out. Souji wasn't sure if it was the knowledge that he'd be thrashed within an inch of his life for going after a high schooler (and Dojima's  _nephew_ at that)—or if he wanted to ensure that Dojima never had the wrong idea. On the chance that Dojima ever asked, surely he'd want to be available to him.

Souji forced himself to smile, polite but empty. "Thank you, Adachi-san."  _It was for you. But it must not seem as important to you as it does to me_.

"Were you on a...  _date_?" asked Dojima. At least  _he_ wasn't as drunk as Adachi. Souji would take the relief wherever he could get it.

"No."

"But you... oh!  _Ohhh_ ," Adachi said, like he'd come to some great realization. He didn't even have the decency to seem apologetic for what he'd done. It was only that frustrating 'what can you do' look on his face, a shrug of slender-boned shoulders, and then he leaned forward and picked the last piece of sushi off the tray in front of himself.

Souji didn't say anything. He kept his head held high, his chin up, his eyes off of Adachi. As much as it felt hopeless sometimes, he couldn't ever stop what was between them. It wasn't that easy. Still, he could be a little bit annoyed—a rare enough feeling for him that he almost savored it when he felt it.

"... Adachi ate the last of the sushi," said Dojima, aiming a withering glare at him before looking hazily back at Souji. "Sorry. I can give you some cash if you want to go back to Junes. Adachi'll walk with you. That can be his punishment."

Souji shook his head, not wanting to be a burden to Dojima any more than he wanted to go somewhere alone with Adachi right now. "No, thank you."

"Aww... you don't wanna hang out with me, Souji-kun?" Adachi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he ducked his head. "It wouldn't be that bad, would it?"

It might have softened Souji just a little bit, but he didn't allow it to show on his face. Besides, Dojima was already cuffing Adachi around the back of the head with a grimace.

"Did you eat tonight, at least?" he asked. Leave it to him to be concerned and gruffly kind no matter what. Souji could never fault him for the way Adachi felt; in the end, he still smiled at Dojima regardless of how it hurt to know that he'd always lose to him.

"No. I wasn't that hungry." Of course, that was the moment when his stomach made its hollowness known only to him. Whether he wanted to or not, he'd have to eat, and he knew for a fact that there was nothing in the fridge.

With a sigh, he backed away an inch or two toward the door. Being here would just feel awkward—maybe a better plan was to get out, at least until Adachi left or passed out on the couch. "I think I'll just stop by Junes and get a bento."

"H-hey, I'll come with you. It's too dark out for you to be wandering around alone!" Adachi said as he got shakily to his feet, overbalancing and nearly coming to a crashing end on top of the table.

His antics were enough to make Dojima laugh, but Souji felt a moment of defeat. Did he just want to torture Souji some more? Surely he wouldn't apologize. Adachi so rarely did that in a genuine manner.

Still, he forced his back even straighter and nodded, repaying him with a pleasant, "Thank you. I'd appreciate that." At least he wouldn't have to argue.

He didn't check to see that Adachi was following him as he unlocked the door and stepped out into the night again. It was only when they'd reached the end of the street and turned off onto another that he heard the sudden scuffling of feet, arms wrapping around his chest to make Adachi's presence known to him.

"You look all grumpy... it's not cute at all!" he accused, hands lingering too long on Souji's chest. Of course he'd try to cop a feel at a moment like this. In spite, Souji found himself wishing he'd worn a binder instead of trying to appeal to Adachi. It wasn't as though his carefully coordinated outfit had been of any use in the end.

"Why didn't you come home for dinner?" Souji asked quietly. It would be easier to try and avoid the topic, but it wouldn't make him feel any better. He knew that much.

"C'mon... Dojima-san offered to buy sushi. Can you blame me?"

"You could have at least  _called_." Had he even crossed Adachi's mind at all? He  _had_ seemed awfully surprised to see Souji at home, and maybe (unless Souji was pretending so as to make himself feel better), a little bit guilty.

"Yeah, well... I forgot. Sorry!" Adachi laughed again, timid. Like it would endear Souji to him.

But it wasn't that which cinched it for him; it was his hands dropping down, one enfolding Souji's and tugging him against his side. Souji had those couple inches on him that tended to make Adachi angry most of the time, but in the darkness right now, he didn't comment on it.

"I'll make it up to you," he promised.

"How?" asked Souji, and he was embarrassed by the way his voice cracked incrementally. "It really hurt, Adachi-san..."  _I want to be important to you. Please treat me like I matter. Don't make me beg._

"Ah... a date? You like those, right? We'll go to Okina sometime, just you and me."

 _Just you and me_. And Adachi's crush on Dojima. And the knowledge that Souji would never have Adachi the way  _Dojima_ had Adachi.

He cleared his throat. Bringing it up would be like going over a precipice, and they'd never come back from it. The view from here, even if it was ugly, was surely better, because it wouldn't make either of them happy to spill over that edge. And logically, Souji knew it wasn't right to pretend that things were fine the way there were. It wasn't fair to either of them. But if he could have Adachi for a little while longer, then maybe it was the only way.

"Fine. But you have to promise," he said, turning to look at Adachi— _really_ look at him, forcing their eyes to meet so that he could gauge whether Adachi was being sincere. And what he saw seemed real, so he believed it.

"Yeah, yeah. I promise. We'll have fun." The grin on Adachi's face turned a little bit lecherous for a split second, then was gone, and his hand squeezed Souji's tighter.

Souji nodded, trying to content himself with that. The air was chilly, mist having rolled in during the few minutes he'd been inside. Now it was sitting heavy on the horizon, and it left him shivering in his thin blouse. Hadn't he gotten what he wanted? Adachi was promising to spend time with him. There was nothing to do except hope that he was as serious as Souji wanted to believe he was.

Giving in felt weak, and accepting second best? Weaker still. Maybe it was a pride thing—and it was hard to shunt it aside. Growing up, he'd always been expected to fold first. A disagreement with his parents, or a misunderstanding with whoever was housing him that month, and it had to be  _him_ that folded. He hated that such a standard still remained—and with someone who was supposed to be able to love him. Someone who didn't, but who  _could_. Someday. Not as much as Dojima, but still enough, right? All he needed was a little bit.

The only consolation he could give himself was that second best was better than having nothing at all. And as Adachi swung their hands together, drunk enough to do the things that usually only Souji would do, he did his best to tell himself that he was lucky after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://bunansa.tumblr.com)


End file.
